RB - 65

Chapter 65: The Secret Greenhouse, Only You Are My Purpose

Jin-hyuk returned late at night, after 10 p.m., looking visibly fatigued from a full day of running errands.

“Where’s Han Seo-yeon?”

As soon as he spotted the butler, Jin-hyuk immediately asked about Seo-yeon. The butler tensed slightly at Jin-hyuk’s anxious expression but recalled what Seo-yeon had said earlier that day: Shin Jin-hyuk was not a strange person or a monster. He was simply someone who occasionally cut plants.

Uncharacteristically silent, the butler hesitated until Jin-hyuk pressed for an answer.

“Surely she hasn’t skipped meals? Has she eaten, Butler?”

“She said she’d wait for you to return and eat together. She has already had dinner. And…”

The butler trailed off, prompting Jin-hyuk to ask curiously,

“And what else?”

“She expressed interest in seeing the greenhouse. Of course, I didn’t allow it since you hadn’t given permission.”

Jin-hyuk was pleased that Seo-yeon had been curious about his private sanctuary. Unconsciously, a smile spread across his face. His body trembled with the desire to share everything with her.

Suppressing the remnants of his smile, Jin-hyuk asked one more question.

“...And my brother Joon-hyuk? Is he behaving well? Did he eat properly?”

“Of course. As you instructed, I ensured he didn’t encounter Manager Han. He also had good conversations with the counselors who visited today. He’s very quiet and well-behaved. He asked for comic books, so I brought him some.”

“That’s good. Give him whatever he wants.”

The butler briefly regretted describing a grown man as “well-behaved,” but Jin-hyuk paid no mind.

He omitted mentioning that Joon-hyuk had repeatedly asked, “When can I see the Queen? If I behave, can I meet her?” Jin-hyuk was already hurrying toward the room where Seo-yeon was staying.

Soon after, the rhythmic chopping sound—tap tap tap—echoed through the dining room.

Seo-yeon skillfully wielded her knife on the cutting board. Intrigued by the scene, Jin-hyuk lingered nearby, unwilling to look away. He wanted to remember this moment forever.

Would moments like these happen often in the future? Could he dare dream of such a life? Jin-hyuk felt intoxicated by the dizzying anticipation fluttering in his heart.

He hadn’t yet confessed to Seo-yeon that he needed her to survive—that this was love. He always waited for the perfect moment, but fate kept twisting time out of his grasp.

Sensing his gaze, Seo-yeon spoke firmly.

“Jin-hyuk, if you keep staring, it might turn out tasteless. It’s like when your team leader hovers over your monitor while you’re writing a report. Go away.”

Jin-hyuk replied, “Even if it’s tasteless, I’ll finish every bite.” Seeing Seo-yeon’s expression, he realized his response might have been inappropriate.

“Jin-hyuk, why sprout vegetable bibimbap all of a sudden? Did you skip meals while running around until now?”

“Ah, I remembered how we cut sprouts in the orphanage greenhouse. You said you’d make bibimbap with them, so it came to mind.”

Seo-yeon chuckled awkwardly. Memories of the orphanage overlapped with the taste of that familiar bibimbap. The director had given her the sprout seeds and taught her the recipe. Hiding her sorrow, she spoke brightly.

“So, it’s food filled with memories? What if you’re disappointed? This isn’t anything special.”

Carefully placing the chopped kimchi into a large bowl, Seo-yeon began frying eggs. As the sizzling aroma filled the air, Jin-hyuk proudly handed over the sprouts he had harvested.

“The plants in the greenhouse are cared for by the butler, but I personally sow the sprout seeds. So these sprouts… I grew them myself. Like a farmer.”

Seo-yeon barely suppressed a laugh before teasing him.

“Jin-hyuk, last time you called me a saint. Now you’re calling yourself a farmer for growing sprouts?”

With a serious expression, Jin-hyuk declared, “I called you a saint because you truly resemble one. That’s why I said it.” He then took out chopsticks.

His movements were solemn, as if performing a sacred ritual. Seo-yeon, catching his mood, focused intently on cooking.

Finally, she drizzled sesame oil with a flourish, releasing its nutty fragrance. Jin-hyuk sat up straight, feeling as though he was about to partake in something far greater than any expensive meal he’d ever had. Seo-yeon swallowed nervously, suddenly worried he might not like it.

“Jin-hyuk, you look like you’re visiting a Michelin-starred restaurant. Smile a little.”

Setting two spoons and a small plate on the table alongside the large bowl, Seo-yeon teased him. Jin-hyuk finally relaxed, offering a faint smile.

“Bibimbap tastes best when mixed in a large bowl. Hurry up and mix it.”

Like an obedient puppy, Jin-hyuk enthusiastically stirred the rice and sprouts, lost in thought. He had always lived like an empty shell, adrift like a boat without sails. But Han Seo-yeon was his compass, his salvation.

Exhaling deeply, he finally placed a spoonful of her bibimbap into his mouth. A reflexive exclamation escaped him.

“It’s delicious. I could live eating just this every day.”

Seo-yeon thought Jin-hyuk was generous with his compliments. After calling her a “saint” to fluster her, he now showered praise on her simple bibimbap. Unconsciously fingering the wing-shaped pendant he had gifted her, she joked,

“Like Choi Min-sik in Oldboy, surviving on dumplings alone? Oh, have you seen that movie? Am I showing my age? We’re not that far apart.”

Seo-yeon watched Jin-hyuk devour the bibimbap as if he hadn’t eaten in days. She almost told him to chew thoroughly but stopped herself, realizing she sounded too much like an older sister.

“Jin-hyuk, you promised to let me see the greenhouse if I made you bibimbap. You’ll keep that promise, right?”

“Of course. Manager Han, hurry up and eat too. This is really delicious.”

Jin-hyuk finished every bite, leaving the bowl spotless, much to Seo-yeon’s satisfaction. Finally extracting a promise—”I’ll make it again sometime”—he led her toward the garden.

Time sometimes crawls painfully slow, while other times it races by like an arrow. For Jin-hyuk, this moment was the latter.

With the air of revealing a secret garden, he opened the greenhouse door. Stepping inside, Seo-yeon carefully surveyed her surroundings. Plants with trimmed stems and flower stalks filled the space. Jin-hyuk’s calm voice echoed softly within the greenhouse.

“Manager Han, I’ve always thought of myself as a monster.”

Though his tone was dry, the sorrow laced in his words was a deep, vivid blue, spreading like the scent of plants throughout the greenhouse.

Feeling goosebumps rise from the cool temperature, Seo-yeon turned to face Jin-hyuk. Images of the scars on his abs flickered in her mind. Just how much pain had Jin-hyuk endured?

“No, I’ve never once thought of you as a monster. Cutting plants makes you a monster? Did you kill someone? You’ve saved me multiple times and hidden Joon-hyuk. What kind of monster does that?”

Jin-hyuk’s head drooped. Tears streamed down his cheeks, forming droplets at his chin before falling silently to the floor. Under the pale greenhouse lights, he looked like a bloodless, fragile boy. Seo-yeon gripped his shoulders firmly and said,

“Why are you crying, Jin-hyuk? I’m telling you, you’re not a monster.”

“For me to function as a proper human being, I need you, Manager Han.”

This wasn’t a confession of love but a plea for survival. Tears continued streaming down his face. Seo-yeon tried to comfort him, but he stubbornly persisted.

“It feels like you’re pounding on my heart. I wish it would stop, but it keeps beating, telling me I have to go on. It’s so painful.”

Sometimes, simply existing in this world is enough to save someone. To Jin-hyuk, Seo-yeon was that person. He reached out, gently caressing her cheek. The warmth seeped into her skin.

How could a man with such warm hands be a monster? Seo-yeon couldn’t fathom the long, dark tunnel Jin-hyuk had traversed. The real monster was Professor Sung Ho-yeon, who had gaslit the young Shin brothers into self-loathing. She couldn’t forgive such ugliness.

But there was only so much she could do. She couldn’t promise to stay by his side forever. Instead, she offered him comfort.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Jin-hyuk. Even vile demons cherish their own bodies. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Jin-hyuk’s body grew cold as he confronted the pain of his past. Struggling even to breathe, Seo-yeon pulled him into a tight embrace.

What could she do for this pitiful man? How could she stand by and watch him steep himself in suffering? Resonating with his deep sorrow, Seo-yeon cried alongside him for a long while.

Helping the Shin brothers had become second nature to her. It was a satisfying revenge against betrayers like Professor Sung Ho-yeon and the orphanage director. But it was also a way to atone for the sins committed by her mother, Park Yeo-wan.